


Butterflies and Fire

by GoforthAndConquer



Category: Alice (2009)
Genre: F/M, Hatter fails at communication, Romance, assorted fluffy feelings, what's a meta-phor?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoforthAndConquer/pseuds/GoforthAndConquer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice has felt butterflies before, but she has never known what it is to burn. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies and Fire

When she embraced Jack Heart for the last time, Alice marveled at the utter lack of reaction. This was Jack, the man who had once inspired giddy butterflies in her stomach, the man who she had risked everything to rescue, and she felt absolutely nothing but the barest hint of warm affection. The kind of caring reserved for high school yearbooks and first crushes. Sweet, nostalgic, fleeting. Inconsequential. She moved out of his arms and wondered at how removed she was from him. Her mouth quirked ever so slightly, a rueful smile playing on her lips, and she turned toward the door, searching for a moment and there he was. His back was to her, but she'd recognize that hat anywhere.

"Hatter!"

He turned. Her eyes clashed with his, and her blood churned, scalding hot, erupting liquid gold in her chest.

Hatter smirked, loping over to her, and Alice swallowed hard, her nerves bombarded by sparks. So strange to feel this hot, a fever that melted her bones, made her knees turn to water and her pulse sound like tribal drums. And standing there, sheltered in his velvet coat that held his scent, tea and spice and male and madness, the scent she had basked in when he wasn't looking, Alice finally understood. Jack had produced butterflies, sweet and fluttery and fragile beneath her skin, but with just one look from Hatter and she knew what it was to burn. And the butterflies, caught in the fire, had turned to ash.

Alice felt words creeping up her throat, scrabbling to be heard, but the moments ticked by as it grew more and more obvious that something was wrong. Hatter was too cavalier, buoyant at her impending departure, practically begging for her to go. She felt a surge of doubt paralyze her, coating her senses to stillness. Could it be that he didn't feel it? That this molten heat raged in her alone? The very idea made her feel as if her bones were splintering, threatening to split her at the seams. She closed her eyes for a moment, his voice washing over her, and then she heard it. It was beneath his casual words, fluttering, soft and aching to be heard. She glanced up, lost in his chocolate eyes, and saw it.

Fire.

He was doing that thing, Alice realized, hope fervent and golden in her veins. That guy thing. That I-Don't-Want-To-Get-Hurt-So-I'll-Pretend-I-Don't-Care-But-I-Really-Do thing. Even in Wonderland, with all its fantastical, twisted lunacy, guys were still just guys.

She hesitated for a breath, then shrugged off his jacket, silently mourning the loss of that delicious scent that had accompanied her for so long. She handed it to him and his hand twitched, something like panic spiking in his gaze, but a moment later he recovered, grinning like the rogue he was.

"Brilliant," he said, curling the jacket against him, and Alice had never wanted to be an article of clothing more in her entire life.

She was more certain that ever that he was doing that guy thing. That adorably frustrating guy thing. But despite the flames licking through her blood, fear had crept in silent, a blackened frost clinging to her skin, soaking through her pores. What if Hatter left? Alice was so used to being left behind, forgotten in the distance, watching the backs of those she dared to love as they walked away. If she let him in, let Hatter invade all those empty rooms inside her that yearned to be filled, he might find that invisible flaw that made everyone leave. That flaw, tiny and hidden so deep that though she searched and searched she could not find it. And because she could not find it, no matter how she scoured her reflection, she could not fix it. But they always found it.

And if Hatter left, she would be a butterfly consumed by fire, a wisp of ash and then nothing.

Hatter was saying something about pizza, sweetly awkward and trying so hard to play it cool, and Alice had to know. Had to know if he was burning for her like she was burning for him. Had to open the door just enough so that if he took a step forward, she would welcome him inside. That's all it would take. Just one little step.

"And other things," Alice murmured, gazing up at him, eyes darkening midnight blue as everything inside her screamed to be heard.

His expression stayed with her as she was herded to the Looking Glass, sparing a glance over her shoulder to soak in his image one last time. The soft leather coat, his strong callused hands, the beaten yellow hat, his adorably mussed hair. His face echoed in her memory as she tumbled through the mirror. How he pouted like a spoiled child when she admitted she still didn't trust him, both soaked to the skin. A brow raised in careless mockery at her attempt at paying him with a sodden wad of money. His gaze flickering to her mouth, seemingly entranced, his lips hovering just a breath above hers just before Jack interrupted them. And that final expression, something like wary hope lighting his features, those dark chocolate eyes flaring molten.

She had opened the door for him.

The very next day, Hatter was there, stepping inside her home and into her life, and Alice ran to him, welcoming him inside. He held her tight against him, his touch like fire, and the last of her fears crumbled to ash.

He kissed her, his mouth hot against hers, branding her his own, and Alice was more than happy to burn.


End file.
